A Cursed Lullaby

this one is pretty heavy i think, which  is not a bad thing by any means.  it is also rather old, and for the same creative writing class, though this was actually written during a legitimate time frame.  my professor said that this piece shows two things.  the first paragraphs show that i am an embarrassment as a scientific writer, and the second half shows that i can write prose, passably.  also, for the sharp-eyed astronomer out there, you may have noticed that i reference nine planets.  at the time of this piece, pluto was  still part of the in-group.  however, of  late, it has fallen out of favor, and no longer gets to play at court to Sol.  i, for one, feel sorry for pluto, as if it hasn't already had it bad enough, what with being left so alone and frozen out literally in nowhere, and i shall continue to recognize pluto for what my heart says it truly is.  

by the way, if you are expecting light and uplifting banter from my blog, i refer you to the disclaimer from my initial post.  however, im sure hannah montana (or miley cyrus, or whatever that bubblegum hack refers to herself as) has some pictures or something from her life as a "rock star" which shouldn't be too hard to find.  

ahh, but why don't we save the follies of pop culture for another time?  "yes, yes," you say, "we're bored.  come now, give us a little death and gore."  you know the so-called "good stuff."  a discerning crowd indeed.  fine then, you savages, sate your bloodlust with this...

A Cursed Lullaby

There are nine planets in this solar system. Each one cycles endlessly around the sun, each cycle making up what we call a year. Within these cycles are tiny revolutions. Each planet has its own pace at which to complete its cycle. On the planet we live, a revolution takes approximately 23 hours and 57 minutes. It revolves around the Sun every 365.25 days roughly. Circling this planet is a moon, and also countless other manmade satellites, designed to watch us as we go about our lives. A daily exhibition…constantly rushing about, frantic drones caring only for the what and never the why.
In the end, it all makes no sense anyway, and so we all continue spinning on the planet which spins around the Sun, which is incidentally in a galaxy which itself revolves about in the vast nothingness which is the Universe. Spinning spinning spinning, all of this spinning has made him sick. And he wants it to stop…forever.
The day broke through his window again, cold and unchanging, hinting no sparkle, no glimmer of something that might make this day or the next worth living. And so he waited, again in silence, waiting for something, something to come. Something, anything he has no idea, no one seems to know, nothing.
Finally, the sun retreats and darkness covers the land, but this will not be a usual night of insomnia and torture. What hope is there in going to sleep if you always wake to daylight? Tonight will be different.

Tonight, he will sleep.

For so long this has been creeping, growing, a sweet rich cancer mounting strong despite any effort. There is no other way. The weight of the world rests on me. Walking feels like dragging anchors behind, now it is time to push off, out to sea, and never to return. Out on one final Odyssey…
The house is silent, the clock draws ever nearer. The shadows call, they ring of ghosts in pained glass. Cries, shrieks, screams, never ceasing, no one can hear them, I am the only one, my ears are bleeding! Only one way to quiet them…
In the moonlight, it looked quite beautiful, glimmering. Like a nymph, it lured him; like a mother, it would hold his life. The light glinted off the edge so delicately, the romance of the blade painfully apparent. Turning, pictures on shelves, smiles, fake poses, everyone laughs to recall how this felt, everyone afraid to admit how we felt our insides torn apart, ripped beyond any semblance of life, love. No one knows, everyone cannot forget.

It is now.

For each memory, the edge slipped deeper, deeper to cleanse the skin by purging the soul. Out, out demons!! I have released you, forever fly from me, and suffer no more. He watched as the tears flowed down his arms, and waited, one by one, as they dripped onto the floor, vibrant and dark, one by one…
Suddenly, the walls begin to spin, there is no hope in regaining what has been lost. There is only to surrender, and watch as you drown, submerge, overcome by the fear of what has passed. They all fade away, and blur as you slip further from the surface, never to appear again. One last hope, all the things we had meant to do, all the good we may have done, our purpose, why we are here, all has vanished. And with one final cry, we are no more, and all is lost…